


there's a truth i've known (and it's you)

by LittleMissInsomniac



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (really just buzzed), Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek is a kicked puppy, Drunk Stiles, M/M, Soulmates, and Stiles is an ass on accident, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2365007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissInsomniac/pseuds/LittleMissInsomniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where everyone is given a plain white bracelet when they're born, and on their 18th birthday their soulmate's special color appears to color it in. Three years after getting his color, Stiles still hasn't found his soulmate, and he still isn't happy about the "downright hideous" color that he got. Enter Derek, the innocent bystander who Stiles happened to unload all of his drunken woes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's a truth i've known (and it's you)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, sorry. First Sterek work, first ao3 post, hopefully I didn't butcher it too badly! Felt a little rushed, but I had this idea today and had to write it out instead of just save it in my idea piles.
> 
> Edit: Wow! Thanks for all the great responses to this so far, and I've gone back now to correct the mistakes that I caught, so hopefully it's not as sloppy!

On Stiles' 18th birthday, he sat and watched with rapt fascination as his clean white bracelet started to ripple, the surface twitching, and waited in eager anticipation for the color to bleed into sight. He'd seen it happen before, had been there for Allison's birthday and later for Scott's (and everyone had known before their birthdays that they were basically perfect for eachother, so the fact that they were soulmates came as no surprise), had seen it happening to a few people in public on accident, but now that it was him-- well, it was just different. It was special. It was for _him_. 

He spent the first few seconds trying to guess what color it would be (blue? purple? green, maybe?), and tried not to laugh when he felt his friends crowding closer, whispering eagerly to eachother about their guesses. Stiles was tempted to shove at them and joke about their choices ("Seriously, Scott, _orange_?") but he found that he couldn't breathe, his heart thundering loudly as he waited. And waited. 

And watched as one of the most hideous rust-red-brown colors he had ever _seen_ came to life on his bracelet, leaving them all staring in shock. For a long moment, nobody spoke, simply stared, and Stiles felt his heart starting to plummet just as Scott wheezed out a soft, "Oh my _god_ , it's even worse than my yellow was!"

Because of course he couldn't have gotten a pretty color. Of course not. 

This kind of fucking sucked, honestly. 

 

*************************

 

The nice thing about having soulmates was that you knew you would meet them one day. That was just the way it worked. There was no need to worry about never meeting your soulmate, or to wonder whether you even had one -- everyone had one, and everyone met theirs, no matter what. Stiles supposed that of all the different scenarios that there could be, this was at least a nice one. He couldn't imagine knowing that he had a soulmate but never being certain if he'd ever actually meet that one special person in his lifetime; it would have been awful for those who never did. Knowing his luck, he was certain he'd have been one of the unlucky ones, too, so he was glad that things weren't like that. 

There were no rules about when you met them, though, and that-- that was just the _worst_. Because Stiles was 21 and still hadn't met his soulmate and seriously, what the hell? All of his friends had either wound up mated to each other or meeting their soulmate by the time they were 20, and he was the last one in the group to finally make the connection. Which. Seriously. _Sucked_. He asked himself a million times a day why they couldn't just meet that person on their 18th birthdays, too, and save everyone the trouble of constantly asking when it was going to be. (Not that everyone was left guess for long, because that was only Stiles, apparently. _Ugh_.)

And the worst part about it was that people were always _assuming_. Assuming that he'd already met his soulmate, that they were a happy lovey-dovey couple, or that they'd already met and his soulmate was as awful as his color turned out to be and _that's_ why they weren't together, or that maybe Stiles had stopped looking because, really, that _color_. It was either they were happy together or they weren't because of the color. Always. It always, _always_ came back to the color in those unhappy scenarios that people tried to imagine up, and Stiles was _sick of it_. 

Because he got it, alright? He knew it wasn't a pretty color. He knew that it looked sort of morbid, like something bloody and rusty and just _blegh_ , and that everyone who saw it cringed at first. He knew that it wasn't the best, and he sort of hated it a little bit too, but he hated everyone who was so _obvious_ about it even more. 

God, why couldn't he have just gotten a nice, soft color that everyone could smile and nod at and complement him over? 

Sighing forlornly, Stiles slouched against the bar, on his way to a pleasant buzz and silently fuming to himself when he caught the girl next to him staring at his bracelet in wary fascination. When she realized she'd been caught gaping, she blushed and looked away, and Stiles let out a groan of defeat. Because. Because _seriously_. 

"Oh my god," he announced loudly, swinging around in his seat, feeling a rant bubbling up inside of him. There was a guy standing right there, looking at him as if he'd been about to say something, and he was staring at the rusty-brown color openly. Stiles felt a little bit hysterical, and possibly more drunk than he'd anticipated, because he lurched forward to pat at the guy's shoulder as he sighed loudly, "Dude, I know, right? Fucking awful color, isn't it?"

The guy stopped, and blinked at him for a moment, looking stunned, his mouth opening slightly. Stiles took the moment to appreciate how attractive he was, all tall and dark and stubbly, and silently mourned the fact that this guy probably had some stunning color sparkling on a pretty girl's wrist somewhere. Oh, well. There was nothing stopping him from being Stiles' bar buddy for the night, and he figured the guy might at least be sympathetic enough to hear him bitch and moan. 

"I'm Stiles," he declared, and the guy stumbled again, having only the chance to utter a confused, "Derek?", before Stiles was plowing on again. "Yeah, hi, Derek. You don't mind if I talk your ear off a bit, do you? Because I am on a _roll_. Like, seriously. I'm going crazy here. Just-- Everything is all about colors, isn't it? It's _always_ got to be about colors, and I literally am going to stab someone if I see one more person look at my bracelet sideways. Not that you can help it, of course, and I'm not going to stab you," he assured when he caught Derek's alarmed expression. 

"I, uh, I'm--" he started to say, still looking lost and a little overwhelmed, his gaze flickering back and forth between Stiles' face and his wrist. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn't know what, and god _damn_ it, he was even hot when he looked like a confused puppy. It was almost pathetic, how miserable Stiles felt when he realized this. He figured he might as well shut down those thoughts immediately, though, and instead focus on the important things in life -- like how shitty his luck was.

"No, dude, seriously, just _look_ at this-- Not that you haven't already seen it, but seriously, look at this! This is hideous! I bet my soulmate is crazy, or insanely boring, or-- or something! I mean, seriously, what _is_ that?" He thrust his bracelet up in the guy's -- Derek's, he reminded himself -- face, headless to how his new friend was leaning away slightly, looking vaguely pained. "Yeah," Stiles agreed with a snort, shaking his head, "It's just painful to look at, isn't it? God, it's, like-- I don't even know what it's like!"

Derek opened his mouth again, and for a moment Stiles considered stopping to hear what the guy had to say, what he thought, before he was shaking his head and interrupting, "Oh, no, nope, it's not your turn yet, buddy. I'm just getting _started_ \--" Derek paled slightly, but it was too late now, because Stiles was already off again, "--like, seriously, I could go on about this for _days_. Do you even know how long I spent trying to figure out what this even _means_? This weird sort of blood, sort of rust, sort of dying things, sort of morbid, bland-- _thing_.  Like. Is it red? Brown? Is there literally anything _not_ completely disgusting that this color could have even come from?"

Derek wasn't even trying to interject now, just staring with this confusing look on his face (he look confused and stunned and kind of like he was in pain all at once, which was weird, but you know what, Stiles would be in pain too if he had to look at someone else's awful color and hear them rant nonstop about it). His hands were twitching at his sides, and Stiles took a moment to note that they were nice hands with nice fingers, before he was reflecting miserably on how his soulmate and their ugly ass color probably wouldn't have nice hands. 

Damnit, why couldn't he just have nice things?

"But you know what _sucks_?" he went on, and Derek looked sort of scared to hear what, but Stiles wasn't stopping now, no way. "Scott's color, though-- listen, he's my brother, I love the guy, but his color was  _atrocious_. It was like this-- this gross mustard yellow goop of ugly, and I felt so bad for Allison, man, for having to wear that awful thing around. _But_! But it didn't even matter! Because he and Allison had been in love for, like, forever, and they already knew they were going to be soulmates before the stupid thing showed up on Allison's wrist! So his gross yucky color didn't even _matter_ because he knew who his mate was immediately and she didn't even care how ugly it was, not really."

Stiles threw his arms up slightly, and Derek startled a bit at the movement, but he didn't move away. He was just standing there, staring back at Stiles with that look on his face still, and Stiles was silently thankful. Because sure, maybe he was freaking out some innocent (and unspeakably hot) stranger, but he had to get this shit off his chest, okay? And at least Derek was nice enough to stay to listen. A good guy, Derek. Maybe they could still be friends after this, if Stiles' hideous bracelet and big mouth didn't scare him off. 

"Stupid wolves, man," Stiles grumbled (and Derek startled), scowling at his bracelet as he reflected on just how unfair the whole Scott ordeal was, "Like, seriously. Stupid wolves and their gross colors and their pretty mates who like their color anyway-- _Ohmygod_!" Stiles yelped, nearly shrieking as his words tumbled in a slur, hit with a sudden horrifying thought. "Oh my god, a wolf! A wolf! I didn't even think of that, like, ever! What if my soulmate is a _wolf_?!" He swung a hysterical look towards Derek, who looked a little bit trapped, his eyes slightly wide, but Stiles didn't care about staying friends any more. He was too busy panicking because _oh my god what if he was mated to a wolf_. 

"Oh my god," he groaned, collapsing against the bar, and he was still going, working himself up into even more of a mess, "Oh my god, I just bet you it's going to be a wolf, oh man, oh no-- How do you even deal with that, man? I mean, Scott's great, he's my brother, no matter what, alright? But. But, like, I bet you I get one of the _crazy ones_ , I bet you I get a crazy ass wolf with this crazy ass color and  _oh my god._ " 

Stiles slumped even more, closing his eyes as he woefully guzzled down another mouthful of his gradually warming drink, and let out a loud, dramatic sigh as he thumped the bottle back down on the counter. In front of him, Derek still hadn't moved, still just standing there, and he jumped slightly at the sudden bang, but Stiles was too busy being absolutely fucking miserable to really notice it that much. "Man," he muttered in complaint, "I wish it could have just been Lydia--" Derek flinched violently at that, going unnoticed yet again, "--I mean, she's perfect. She's a perfect strawberry blonde goddess and so, _so_ smart and I was so convinced when we were younger that it was meant to be. Of _course_ she ended up with Jackson, though, but still-- My life would have been so much easier if _I_ got her pretty pink on my birthday."

There was silence for a while, and he could see Derek shifting slightly out of the corner of his, but for a moment Stiles was content to just sit there and mourn the loss of what he could have had. Not for the first time he pictured what his life could have been like if Lydia Martin was his soulmate, and he felt a pang go through him. "I mean, it just could have been-- it'd all have been so _nice,_ " he sighed, feeling wistful as he let the silence fall again. 

He glanced up a few moments later, and Derek was staring at the ground now, which-- well, okay, Stiles felt a little bad right about now. Christ, the poor guy hadn't even gotten a chance to say anything yet. He probably had never wanted to hear Stiles rant about his problems anyway. Ugh, he was so _stupid_ sometimes. "Look, listen, I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean to bitch to you. Listen, let me buy you a drink or something, you probably need one after dealing with my shit--" 

But Derek was shaking his head, glancing up at him quickly, almost nervously, and _wow_ , were those hazel eyes absolutely gorgeous. Now that Stiles had taken a second to breathe, and to feel bad about talking this guy's ear off, he could see that Derek was more than just the initial 'hot' Stiles had given him earlier. This guy-- he was, like, drop dead _gorgeous_ , and right now he looked sort of sick and uncertain and it was a horrible thing to see of such a nice face. 

"Dude, are you okay?" Stiles asked, feeling vaguely alarmed and a little bit sorry, because he was pretty sure it would be his fault if Derek was upset somehow, and raised a hand to his shoulder gently. His gaze was sweeping downwards, searching sort of desperately for anything else that could be the source of the guy's evident distress, but he looked just fine and-- 

And Stiles froze, staring in blank disbelief as the pale blue of his mother's favorite dress stood out on Derek's wrist in plain sight. 

 

*************************

 

At 25, Derek was starting to think that maybe he never was going to find his soulmate after all. 

He knew, logically, that is simply wasn't something that happened. He knew it didn't work that way. Everyone met their soulmate at some point or another, and there were no exceptions; your soulmate was supposed to be perfect for you, scientists explained, and it'd be impossible for them to be perfect for you if you never actually got to meet them. Because then they wouldn't _perfect_. (For you, that was; everyone was always assured that no one was perfect, not really, it's just that their soulmates were designed to match them perfectly.)

It's just that he was certain there were exceptions, that there were certain cases that were quickly covered up and hidden because they defied the normal laws of fate, and he was certain that he was one of them. He was young, he got that, and he was still a few years away from the average age of late finders, and everyone was always eager to assure him that he still had time, but-- But the thing was that he was a monster, and he didn't deserve to find his soulmate, ever. 

People who let their whole family die just didn't deserve that, and maybe that was it, that was the secret. If you fucked up badly enough you got put on the naughty list, got a ticket to Hell, and essentially barred from finding your soulmate. He wouldn't be surprised. If it existed, if it were a thing, he'd agree that he deserved it, that it made sense. 

Because his bracelet was a soft blue that made him feel content and calm and happy just from looking at it, and he couldn't imagine there being someone out there who could make him feel that way. And if there was, he couldn't imagine that _he_ would be matched up to someone so brilliant. It just couldn't be. It couldn't. 

So he ignored the questions and pretended it didn't kill him every time someone smiled at him sympathetically, and sometimes he went out to bars and got drunk and forgot for a moment that he was a horrible person who wouldn't ever find their mate. Forgot that his wolf would making that pathetic whining noise in his head for the rest of his life, without a pack and without a mate, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And he was halfway to the bar of his favorite spot when the scent hit him, and it was best thing he'd ever smelled in his life, better than pack, even, and he was too caught up in the scent to realize that _nothing_ should smell that good. It was cinnamon and apples and warm and delicious, and Derek followed it stupidly, his thoughts still scrambling to catch up with his body as he wove closer to the bar. 

When he spotted the guy, he almost didn't believe it, because his wolf was going crazy and he still smelled so so good and _there_ \-- There was his bracelet, right there, and Derek just _knew_ , knew that color was his and knew exactly where it was from and he felt some crazy sort of hope spiral up before he could help it. Because. Because this was his soulmate, right there, this was his soulmate and he was beautiful and Derek actually got to have him, and he couldn't believe-- 

But then the guy -- Stiles, and his name was beautiful, too -- was turning around and waving his bracelet around, and Derek couldn't do anything but just stand there and listen in stunned silence as he ranted about how much he hated the color, about how he didn't want a wolf, how he wanted _Lydia_ , and Derek sort of just-- He just took it, and felt everything slowly, gradually crumbling, because of course. 

It was-- it was horrible, awful, listening to it all, and he could feel himself dying little by little the longer Stiles went on. He could feel his wolf whimpering and cringing at their mate's distaste, and he didn't think he could do this, but-- but all he could think was,  _Yeah, I deserve this. I deserve this. My mate could never have wanted me._

And he wanted to leave but he couldn't, because he just wanted to hear that voice and see his mate's face for a little longer before he had to say goodbye, even if he had to hear how much Derek could never have him. Any moment now Stiles would see, and he would realize, and he would never want to talk to Derek again-- or he wouldn't see it, and he'd just smile him off like a random stranger, and Derek would leave in silence, too scared to speak, and Stiles would still never talk to him again. He could feel it coming on like a death sentence, and desperately wanted to delay it, to stop it, to keep his soulmate for just a little longer-- 

But then it happened, and he watched Stiles' face change, and Derek felt the ground fall out from beneath him in that exact moment, the sharp prinprick of his claws digging into his palms nothing in comparison to the tight clench in his chest. 

 

*************************

 

"Oh my god," Stiles wheezed, his breath punched out of him all at once, and all he could think for a split second was that his mother's dress had always been beautiful, and the bracelet was beautiful, but the man wearing it was  _gorgeous._ And then his brain caught up with him and the whole conversation was crashing down on him, because he _knew_ , just _knew_ Derek had known all along and that weird look on his face had been because  _Stiles was complaining about him to his face._

Oh, god. 

Without thinking (because if he started thinking all he would see was the hurt look on Derek's face now and then he'd start panicking and oh god he was already panicking), Stiles reached out to grab at Derek's arm, bringing the bracelet up closer to get a good look at it, and that's-- that's when he saw the blood, and realized with a startled jerk that Derek's fists were clenched so tight he was  _bleeding_ , and oh my god those were _claws_ \--

"Oh, god," Stiles groaned aloud, and this time he saw it when Derek flinched away, his expression crumbling even more even as he tried to hide it, and Stiles was the _worst_. He was the worst fucking person in the world, and the first thing he'd done upon meeting his soulmate was _hurt_ him. Of course. God, he was horrible. "Oh god, you're a wolf, too, oh my god, I can't _believe_ myself--" 

But Derek was pulling away now, freeing his hand and darting his gaze away with a guilty look, as if this was somehow _his_ fault, and Stiles just wanted to die on the spot, and thought the mortification alone might kill him, but wait, no-- no, the misery in those perfect hazel eyes was going to be what killed him, and the hasty way that Derek dropped his gaze to the ground and hunched in on himself slightly. "I'm sorry," he said softly, and Stiles realized with a jolt that this was the first time he was really hearing Derek speak more than a stuttered half word (god his voice was so nice his mate was perfect he'd hurt his perfect soulmate what was _wrong_ with him), "I'm sorry, I--"

"No, no, dude, _no_ \--" Stiles interrupted immediately, making a desperate grasp for Derek's wrist again, and he squeezed lightly before letting go ago because the wolf was so clearly pained by the contact. God, just that fact alone was enough to have Stiles feeling guilty for the rest of his life. "Derek, no, don't be-- don't be sorry, you didn't even _do_ anything, look-- Look, I'm sorry, okay? I just-- please don't go. Please stay. I want to talk to you. Please."

And he had expected Derek to leave, to be done with Stiles and his huge fucking mouth, because seriously, who wouldn't? But no, of course not, because Derek was fucking perfect and nice and willing to stay because Stiles had asked him to and _Stiles was the absolute fucking worst oh my god_. Derek just nodded quietly, and glanced up at him, before dropping his eyes again. Stiles knew his claws were still digging into his palms, and he wanted nothing more than to pry his fingers open and away from the wounds, but he-- he just couldn't. So he stood there, and struggled to find the words to make things right, but this time, Derek beat him to speaking. 

"It was, um, when my sister shifted, her fur was-- It was this russet brown color," he said, and then he winced slightly, looking guilty and a little sick, and Stiles realized with a lurch of his stomach that Derek was regretting mentioning that she was a wolf. And Stiles-- Stiles sort of just wanted to punch himself over and over in the face because he was the one who did that, who put that expression on his soulmate's face, and _of course_ Derek's family were all weres and _of course_ he'd said "was". God, Stiles was such a _dick_. 

"It would look gorgeous on a wolf," Stiles blurted, because now that he thought about it would, and god, why hadn't he thought of that? He panicked when Derek startled and looked wary, watching him with this guarded sense of apprehension like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was like he was bracing for a blow, and Stiles sort of wanted to cry over how badly he had fucked up. "I mean-- on, um, a wolf-- I get it, I should have known it was-- that it was more than just some brown-- Look, I'm, I'm just sorry, okay? I bet she was gorgeous," he kept on babbling in a rush, desperate to wipe that look off Derek's face, to make it all better. 

"Yeah," Derek finally mumbled softly, looking away again, off to the side, as if he was afraid to look Stiles in the eye. He still had that pinched, vaguely wounded look as he said quietly, voice scratchy and rough with grief and _Stiles was such a dick, okay_.  "She was-- She was the prettiest girl I've ever seen, and her wolf--" He stopped short again, and that guilty look crossed his face again, his gaze flashing to Stiles before dropping to the ground. 

"Derek," Stiles started to say, feeling depressingly more and more like he was losing something invaluable, but even as he watched Derek was drinking in a deep breath, steeling himself, and slowly straightening up to shake his head. "Derek, let me just--" he breathed out, staring at his soulmate shook his head again and lifted his gaze to look into Stiles' eyes, and this was it, wasn't it? This was when Derek decided he couldn't do this and didn't want Stiles to apologize and was just going to leave. 

"I-- I just want to--" Derek started, and then faltered, growing quiet again for a split second before he seemed to find his voice again. "I'm-- I'm sorry that I'm not--" Stiles could see him swallowing, and felt his heart breaking for his soulmate all over again, "--that I'm not what you wanted. I wish you could have gotten-- gotten Lydia--" oh god oh god Derek's mouth went tight with pain and oh god, "--or just, not some wolf, not-- not _me_ \--" he said it like he was the worst thing someone could be stuck with, and no no no Stiles could feel his jaw trembling slightly, "--I'm sorry you had to get me." And then he just deflated slightly, his shoulders drawing in once more as his gaze dropped and his throat bobbed with another pain swallow. 

"Derek, no," Stiles whispered softly, shaking his head, and reached for the wolf's shoulders now, grasping at his leather jacket tightly, "Derek-- Derek, I'm sorry, I didn't-- Look, I just-- I'm so, so sorry," he could hear his voice cracking and he didn't care because he deserved that, "I don't care, okay, I don't care if you're a wolf or anything, I _don't_ \-- Derek, look at me." He grasped at his shoulders tighter, tugging gently and desperately and pretending not to notice when the wolf tensed before letting himself be pulled closer. 

It took a moment for Derek to look up again, and he just looked so _sad_ , like he might break apart like glass, and-- "No, Derek, no," Stiles breathed, voice watery and throat tight, "You're perfect, you're perfect, okay, and-- You are," he insisted when Derek started to look uncomfortable and then maybe a little, tiny bit hopeful, "You are, you're perfect, and you're perfect for me, okay? Do you see this?" Stiles let his hand snake down his soulmate's arm, clasping his bloody fingers tightly and lifting his hand to show him their intertwined fingers, their bracelets pressed close together, bearing one another's color. "This means you're mine, and I'm yours, and you're everything I could have asked for."

Derek just stared at him, his eyes slightly wide and vulnerable and his lips parted a bit, like there were words on his tongue but he didn't know how to say them, and god, he was so beautiful. Stiles never wanted to see that hurt look on his face ever again. He stared back, and smiled weakly, trying to get Derek to see that he meant it, that he wanted to try this, try them, that he was _sorry._ And slowly, gradually, he could see Derek starting to understand, because he swallowed again and then he was leaning forward, his free arm wrapping tight around Stiles as the wolf dropped his face into his throat. 

"Derek," Stiles sighed in relief, practically sobbed the name, and then he was crying quietly as he clung tight to his soulmate's hand and grasped his shirt with his other hand, shaking with his shaky delight as Derek drank his scent in. "Oh, god, I thought you were going to leave-- God, I'm so glad I found you, I'm so glad I--" He stopped for a moment, and squeezed Derek tighter when he realized the wolf was trembling, "I'm so glad you're my soulmate, Derek."

And Derek's breath sort of just shuddered out of him, the rest of the tension melting out of his body as he leaned into Stiles completely, breathing him in deep before rasping softly, "I can't-- I can't believe I met you, or that you--" His voice cracked and broke, and Stiles felt his grip tightening, and suddenly he was aware that they were probably making a scene but he didn't fucking care, "--I don't deserve you, I don't, I can't believe you're mine."

Stiles pressed feverish kisses against his shoulder, his neck, and let out a breathy laugh in relief and sheer happiness because holy shit, he had his soulmate. He had his soulmate and he was perfect and Stiles couldn't wait until they could meet eachother for _real_. "Hey, hey, Derek," he mumbled, laughing softly, and lifting his head slightly to nuzzle at the wolf's cheek, "No more of that, okay? We deserve eachother, and even if we don't I'm not letting go of you now, okay? I only just got you."

Derek turned his head slightly, and Stiles caught sight of the little smile that was tugging upwards, and suddenly he couldn't breathe because god, Derek was even more gorgeous when he was smiling. "Okay," he agreed softly, and burrowed his face back into Stiles' neck, prompting another breathless laugh out of him.

"Okay," Stiles agreed, his smile stretching as he released Derek's shirt only to weave his fingers through the back of the wolf's hair. He laughed again simply out of delight when his soulmate hummed softly in contentment, and, yeah, Stiles had a feeling they were going to be just fine. 

*************************

Later, they had a lot to talk about. Stiles couldn't apologize enough times, but Derek was always quick to forgive him, to insist that it was okay, that he understood, he did, and after a while it really was okay and Stiles could stop feeling guilty every time someone asked how they had met. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how he can gotten so lucky with Derek, but then again, that was sort of the point of soulmates, wasn't it? He just couldn't believe it was real, sometimes. 

They talked about Derek's sister Laura, and his family, and how Kate Argent had tricked him into thinking she was his soulmate when he was 16 and used him to burn his family alive. Stiles had held him as he shook apart, and kissed him back together with quiet promises and hushed assurances and eventually that was okay, too. Derek talked about his family a lot, now, told Stiles stories about his sisters and his cousins and he did it all with a smile and no longer looked guilty about being alive. 

They talked about Stiles' mom, and just as he had been there for Derek, Derek was there for him when he needed a good hug and some reassurance. Derek came with him that next morning after they met to meet his dad, and since then they'd all been so close, and his dad had been so great with Derek. Stiles felt something warm in his heart whenever he caught the secret little smile that appeared when the Sheriff called Derek 'son', and he couldn't have asked for anything more than that.

Derek met Stiles' friends, and he met Lydia with a smile and didn't even flinch when introduced, and within no time it was as if Derek had been there all along, like there'd been a Derek-shaped gap missing in their circle of friends and now it was filled. Stiles went to date nights without feeling awkward, and Derek looked happier than ever when he had a pack (even if it was an unconventional one), and his friends were relieved to finally have an alpha (and yeah, Stiles still wasn't tired of saying that, of telling people that his soulmate was an _alpha_ , or of whispering 'my alpha' in Derek's ear just to feel him shudder). 

It was all perfect, and Stiles couldn't imagine things being any different, to be honest. He wore his bracelet with pride, and felt his love grow a little more each day, and when he caught Derek smiling at him he could only stop and think that he couldn't have asked for a more perfect mate. 

 

 


End file.
